My Immortal
by BobHasRainbowVeins
Summary: 'Your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams' England constantly has dreams of the American Revolution and they are slowly breaking him down; America begins to notice, but is busy trying to accept that he has feelings for the brit.  K  for language
1. You still have all of me

Hallo everyone ouo/ How are you all?

So, I was listening to the song _My Immortal _by **Evanescence **the other day, and this popped into my head! So of course, I spent the past few days working on this story.

The description was getting too long, so I couldn't add this in there, but there is definitely going to be UsUk action later on in the story. Of what degree, I have no idea. America and England's relationship is going to change drastically, though, and maybe towards the end I'll add smut. Or not. Maybe I will just add so much fluff that we will all drown in it~ :D

Ok, well, hope you enjoy the 1st chapter~

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><p><em><strong>oOo<strong>_

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><p>"—<em>I want my freedom!"<em>

_"No..."_

"_I am not your little brother anymore—"_

"_Please, no…"_

"—_I am becoming independent!"_

"_God damn it, __**no**__! __**I won't let you leave me**__—!"_

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><p>England snapped himself up into a sitting position, panting heavily with cold drops of sweat running down his chest. It was… just a dream. No, not just a dream; a memory. A memory that would never leave him, one that would taunt him forever. The worst part was that the pain of the memory still lingered, and now it was stronger than ever.<p>

It took the gentleman a moment to notice that sweat was not the only thing that trailed down his skin. Tears had managed to push their way out as well, and they caused him to crumble. He slowly brought his hands to his face, and he sobbed softly.

"C'mon, Arthur. That was years ago. I-it's not going to happen again. Just cheer up, ol' chap…"

The words he murmured to himself were weak, and they were hardly motivating or convincing. Who was he trying to kid? He was a mess. Even after he thought he had gotten over the whole mess referred to as 'The American Revolution'. Even after he had picked up the pieces of his broken heart and slowly began to mend it back together.

Why, after all this time, were the memories starting to return? Night after night, the personification was shaken by terrible nightmares of the war that had happened so many years ago. Why was it all coming back? Why now—?

"Enough moping, I have a meeting to get to. Can't have me being late, now, can we?"

As of that moment, England would have preferred skipping the meeting. He rarely skipped meetings though; he found such acts highly distasteful. He didn't even have a valid reason to skip. '_I just don't want to go'_? '_I've been having these terrible dreams; therefore I have the right to lock myself in my house and brood over them all day_'? Unacceptable.

So, the brit dragged himself out of bed and made himself presentable. He took a quick shower and changed into clean clothes, discarding his clothes from the day before into his laundry basket. He tidied up around his house, grabbing a scone to eat in the midst of it all, before finally heading out the door. Adjusting his tie, the blond decided to check over the meeting prompts and who all would be attending.

The half eaten scone that had been in his mouth fell to the ground as his glittering emerald eyes ran over the words over and over again.

Attending:

_France; Francis Bonnefoy  
>Russia; Ivan Braginsky<br>China; Wang Yao  
>Canada; Matthew Williams<br>Great Britain; Arthur Kirkland_  
><em><strong>America; Alfred F. Jones<strong>_

"Oh…._shit_."

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><p>"…gland! England! Are you listening to me?"<p>

Said country looked up from his hands which were clasped together, resting on the table. Several others were staring at him, and one country in particular was glaring.

He cleared his throat nervously. "I'm sorry, what was the question?"

Russia sighed with irritation, shaking his head. "I was asking you how you felt about my proposal, about my ideas with the imports and exports. My ideas are good, da?"

"I-I'm sorry, Russia. I didn't get any of what you said…"

"What is your problem today, _Mon Agneau_?" France questioned, peering over at him with confusion.

"Wha- nothing is wrong with me, you bloody frog! And I am not your 'mon agnoo' or whateve-"

"Mon _agneau_~"

"_**Whatever**_. I don't give a bloody fuck how to say whatever it is you said in French. Can't you leave me at peace for once? Christ."

England went back to staring down at his hands for a few moments, expecting the meeting to continue on, but there was only silence. He risked looking up from the table and found everyone staring at him. He raised a brow to them, confused as they were.

"May I ask why you have not resumed the meeting and instead are all looking at me?"

"…It's just…you are not usually this out of it, aru. I've never known you to be inattentive, aru…"

"_Non_, you are also snappier than usual. Did something happen~?"

He felt the blood begin to drain out of his face. They were all beginning to get suspicious, asking questions he didn't feel comfortable answering. They would never understand how terrible he had felt, lately. How terrible it was to wake up to your world ending, every single day—

"Yeah, dude, what's your problem? You never zone like this. Or is it just because Russia is like, _really _boring? 'Cause then I'd totally understand!"

The obnoxiously loud voice resonated throughout the entire room, shaking the brit to his core. After successfully blocking out that particular person's voice for at least an hour, his selective listening skills finally failed him. He found himself glaring at the American, and sky blue eyes met his gaze.

"What? Did I say something? You are seriously out of it today, England." America chattered unknowingly. "I mean, you were just staring at the table and completely missed it when Russia accidently sat on Canada! It was pretty awesome, too. Then China was yelling at Russia, and—"

"**_Shut your filthy mouth, you bloody git!_**"

The words were out before he could stop them; not that he wanted to stop them. Several sets of eyes were watching him more intently than the moment before, especially the eyes belonging to a Mr. Alfred F. Jones.

"Dude…I was just telling you how—"

"No," England said, his voice starting to shake. "I must pardon myself for a few moments. If I return and am still feeling slightly under the weather, this meeting will have to be cancelled and rescheduled for another time."

Without waiting for any objections, he stood up, pushed in his chair, and left the room, his eyebrows knit together so closely that large wrinkles formed on his forehead.

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><p>"…it's not like it is going to happen again. It's all in the past. All in the past…"<p>

The Briton attempted to convince himself of such things, but his brain ignored him. Nothing could distract him either. Not even thinking of frog-faced France helped; especially when he recalled how France had actually helped America—

"Unicorns."

England's eyes opened wide as the word slipped out of him. '_Yes, unicorns. They are majestic and rather friendly._'

"Fairies.  
>Pirates.<br>Scones.  
>…Scones?"<p>

He found himself laughing at where his own thought process had taken him. It worked in cheering him up, though, and his facial features relaxed. His appearance became pleasant, no longer stiff, and overall he felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

"Now that that's all taken care of, shall we return to the meeting room ~?"

Once he returned, they all decided to restart the meeting. Everything went smoothly from there, and fixed compromises were made. When it came his time to speak, he stood up and went over his papers, no sign of his earlier suspicious behavior. Once the gentleman had finished, every country began to gather their papers and leave.

"U-uhm, excuse me…" A quiet voice spoke up, though no one heard it.

"Oh…uhm…._excuse me_..!" Still, no reply.

"I-I haven't introduced my proposal yet..!" France swore that he heard something, but England brushed it off as him just being insane.

"Ah…..er….._**will someone please listen to me**_?"

The voice grew loud enough to attract attention. Everyone stopped shuffling their papers and looked over at the red-faced person who was still sitting in his chair with his papers sprawled out. At first, a few other countries were confused at the sight of him, wondering who he was, when he had gotten there, and why he looked so familiar, but then France spoke up.

"Ah, _Mon Cheri_, when did you get there~? Or have you been there the whole time—ah yes, Russia tried to sit on you earlier, I remember."

The Frenchman's words only caused the young nation's face to grow more red. He…_Canada_, that was his name, was not usually one to get flustered over little things, but it was obvious that something about France was causing him to act out of character. The scene before him caused England to chuckle, and he shook his head, putting his folder neatly under his arm as he began to head for the door.

"You'll have to forgive us, Canada. It seems we are all a bit out of sorts today. If you have something really important you'd like to bring up with me, I wouldn't mind discussing it over a nice cup of Earl Grey." He flashed the Canadian a warm smile before excusing himself from the room.

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><p>Two boys sat on a bench, one sitting very still while the other one's legs were swinging back and forth. Between them rested a half empty bag of McDonald's and two drinks. Even after bluntly stating that he wasn't hungry, the American had insisted on buying him something. <em>Such a waste of money…<em>

"Alfred…wasn't Arthur acting strange today? Would yo-…..would you know anything about that?" Canada's soft voice slowly rose over the ramblings of other people in the park.

At hearing his name, the blond looked up from a hamburger that he had been ready to stuff in his mouth. He found the question odd at first, but he understood somewhat. It just so happened that he was usually the cause of the brit's distress, but he swore he hadn't done anything remarkable recently. "Dude, Mattie, I swear it wasn't me. I've hardly talked to him lately, so it can't be _my_ fault."

His friend shook his head. "But did you see the way he snapped at you? Did you see his _eyes_? I thought they were going to burn holes right through you!"

America shrugged, taking a large bite of his burger followed by a few slurps of his drink. He thought on what was said, and it unsettled him. '_I can't even remember the last __time he looked at me like that…so cold, distant, _hurt _even…Well, that one time he looked like that…but that was hundreds of years ago! We both got over it a long time ago, didn't we?_'

He shoved nearly half of the hamburger into his mouth as well as a few fries, obviously frustrated. '_He's just being stupid. I am sure he is just getting upset over nothing. Stupid Arthur…_'

"Hey, Mattie, let's go get some ice cream."

"W-what? You haven't even finished your lunch yet!"

"Sure I have, now let's go!"

"Wha—I told you that I'm not hungry! _**Alfred!**_"

'_Arthur, what the fuck is up with you? Why did you look at me like you did that time?_'

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><p>Mon Agneau- My lamb<p>

Mon Cheri- My dear, my sweetheart, my love (In that ballpark xD)


	2. Don't try to fix me, I'm not broken

Hi again~!

Edit—Dang, this chapter is hard for me to write. The beginning went smoothly but after that…it's all choppy. DI we'll see how it turns out…

I see a few of you have taken a liking to this story. Thanks for the alerts and such; even simple views make my day3

Also, something I forgot to add in my last set of notes—I have it so that the countries call each other by their human names when out of meetings. This way, they are being more relaxed and casual.

So, yeah. Second chapter. Feel free to comment/ review c: ~

Also! I will be switching the chapter titles between Evanescence songs, so bear with me ^^;

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><p><em><strong>oOo<strong>_

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><p><em>England sat behind his desk as he usually did, staring away at the papers before him. Taxes, bills, riots, outraged citizens; none of it was new to him. He was beyond surprised, however, when the person he least expected to see burst into his office, severely out of breath.<em>

"_A-America? What are you doing here?" his voice came out weaker than he had wanted it to. He was just surprised, that was it. At least, that's what he told himself._

"_You've got to be fucking kidding me! _Another _taxation act?" America shouted, his blue eyes suddenly blazing sapphires._

_The Briton shook his head, resting his cheek in his palm. "Really, America, have more sense. You break down my door and charge into my office just to tell me that? It's going to cost money to get that sturdy door fixed, too. You should keep your strength in check—"_

"_Shut up! I don't care about your stupid door. Tell me; what the fuck is with the added taxes? My people are struggling to pay their taxes as it is, and you add more!"_

_He let out an irritated sigh; he hated it when the colony got angry to the point that he could not be swayed. "Calm down, boy. I have many debts that need to be paid, therefore you are going to help whether you want to or not. Why can't you be as obedient as you were when you were younger? You were so cute back then."_

_The American snapped, and his eyes went from blazing with anger to glinting like cold ice being hit by fierce rays of light. "Right, that's all you care about. Sorry, I forgot. And you know what else? That's it. I am not taking this anymore. I am not going to let my country suffer just because you are trying to be greedy and milk us for all we are worth. My people are suffering, suffering because of __**you**__. I won't stand for it anymore. I am …__**declaring independence**__."_

_England couldn't feel anything as he jumped out of his chair, knocking it over. He couldn't hear anything as he walked over to his little brother. All he could taste, however, was bitter rage, as he raised his hand and brought it down hard across the other's cheek. The afflicted skin immediately reddened, and blue eyes met green ones._

"_This is war."_

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><p>Dull emerald orbs showed themselves between hesitantly opening eyelids. It had been three days since the countries held their meeting. It had been three days since England had left his house. It had been two days since he had showered. It had been a day since the last time he ate a legitimate meal. It had been twelve hours since he had left his bed.<p>

In any other circumstance, he would have sworn at himself and said '_This behavior is unacceptable! You are a gentleman, and you shall compose yourself like one!_' He didn't have the soul or the energy to do it in the precarious situation he was in, though. He was a ghost of himself and had built a shell around him.

Somehow the blond managed to convince himself to get up, and he threw on some clothes, pausing in front of his mirror as he did so. The sight was…not so pretty. His hair was messier than ever, and it had lost its luster. His skin was pale and yellow, anemic looking. Dark circles had built up under his eyes as well, and he was the sheer image of someone who was in terrible health. As far as his mental state went, he _wasn't_ healthy; not at all.

Nevertheless, he continued on. After getting dressed, he headed down a flight of stairs and trekked into his kitchen. There he grabbed a scone from the table and poured himself pre-made tea that he had kept in his refrigerator. Once he had gathered all of the materials he needed, England made himself comfortable at his kitchen table. In the midst of his tea-sipping and scone-munching, he pointlessly flipped through an old newspaper to keep himself busy.

For the first time in a few days, he felt at peace, as if everything was good again. His serenity, however, was broken when there was a knock at the door. The Briton attempted to shout '_Coming!_' while shuffling over to the door, but his voice was muffled by the half eaten scone in his mouth. He reached the door, unlocking it quickly, and swinging it open to reveal his visitor.

"H-hi, Engla-no, Arthur! How—oh my god, what happened to you?"

Arthur raised one of his abnormally large eyebrows, and he removed the item of food from his mouth before he spoke. "Matthew, calm down. You look as though you've seen a ghost."

The boy shuffled the papers he held and looked down at them, not being able to meet the other's gaze. "I'm pretty sure I have…I-is there something wrong? "

He hesitated before answering. Matthew was honest enough; right there, right then, he could tell the other about his dreams. He could open up, and maybe get help. He tore the idea to pieces though. Who was he kidding; what could the Canadian possibly do? What_ would_ he do? Go off and tell Alfred that, oh, old Arthur was going insane and having nightmares of him leaving again. Yeah, that'd blow over _real _smoothly.

"What? No, I am fine. Actually- I am just feeling a bit under the weather. It must be that time of year, eh? Anyways, why don't you come inside and do whatever business it was you cared to do with me," he said evenly, lying through his teeth.

"Alright…" Canada gave him a half hearted smile and walked inside. He would have believed England very easily, except the fact that it was the middle of summer, nowhere near the flu season. His eyes asked the questions that he himself was too shy to ask, but no answers were given; not that he expected any answers.

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><p>As it turned out, Matthew had taken up his offer to discuss the proposal he had wanted to bring up at the meeting but hadn't gotten the chance to. They worked out the kinks, and England gave advice here and there. In the end, everything was worked out and approved.<p>

As he gathered his things, Canada risked a few glances over at his elder. "Uhm…Arthur…I know you don't want to talk about it…but I _do_ know that something is wrong. I am not going to press you about it, but I want to know one thing. Does…does Alfred have something to do with it?" His quiet voice was tentative, but firm.

The Brit stared at him for a few long moments before a distant and somewhat sad smile appeared on his face. "Telling you would not make anything better. In fact, it might just make things worse. Please, Matthew, leave me to fix it on my own. It- it's all my fault. Yes, that's it. It's not his…it's…mine."

The realization hit him hard. Yes, it had always been his fault. So much time had passed that he had nearly forgotten. He had been a horrible big brother, and America had hated him. America _still _hated him, right? Things would never be the same…

"Arthur, are you okay?"

Canada's voice awoke him from his thoughts and he shook his head. No, no he wasn't ok. He didn't know if he was going to be ok. And he wasn't sure that anyone could make him ok.

"Matthew, I think it's about time you went home. I'm sure that your boss is missing you terribly."

_He knew better than to argue._

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><p>((Wow terrible ending. OH WELL! Next chapter: AMERICA'S POV, WOOT :D<p>

P.S. **_Sorry for the shortness_** v.v))


	3. Watch my purple sky fly over me

Holy jesus.

Guys, I am so sorry for the delays D8! I really didn't think it'd take this long. But, I kind of lost muse for the story, blah blah, and therefore there was a delay! Now…after this update, I may take awhile to update again. I need to work on my Spamano story and possibly my fail Black Butler one…

So yeah….

Story time ouo/

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><p><strong>oOo<strong>

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><p>"Bitch."<p>

"….uhhhhh…"

"Make me breakfast."

"..mmmmmmm…"

"Go get me some McDonalds."

"…._It'stooearlyforthissss_…"

"It's 2 in the afternoon. Get up or I'll use your credit card to get McDonalds myself."

"Alright, alright! I'm up! Jeez, Tony, last time you used my credit card, you spent what, $100 on a month's worth of food? That's not going to happen again."

"Make me some breakfast, then."

"…If it's 2 o' clock, why do you want _breakfast_? Don't you mean lunch?"

"I don't care. Stop stalling. Get up and make me some fucking food."

He was then met by the sound of a door slamming shut; the noise rang through his ears and woke him up completely. Being as lazy as he was, all he could manage was rolling over onto his back, resting his arm across his forehead. There were times when he couldn't help but feel irritated with Tony; the alien had interrupted a rather nice dream.

_Nice? Is that what it was? …_

_No…_

America had been having reoccurring dreams. They were never the exact same, but they were similar in many ways. One way, for example, was that they would usually end up with him waking to messy sheets, or morning wood. Normally this would not have been a bother, but it was the dreams themselves. Or rather, it was the person_ in_ the dreams. Somehow, miraculously, the person in his dreams was none other than Arthur Kirkland. _England_.

To him, the dreams were rather unwanted. He had never seen his ex-brother as anything more than another country...maybe even a '_friend_'. But somehow, without him noticing, his view on the bushy-browed Brit had begun to change.

It took America an unnecessarily long time to get up and make himself presentable. Firstly, he had had to relieve himself of the after effects that his dream had caused. Afterwards, he dragged his feet getting dressed. To him, a t-shirt that he'd already worn earlier in the week and a pair of baggy jeans that were way too big for him were perfectly acceptable as an outfit. It was _his_house; he could do whatever the hell he wanted.

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><p>By the time he reached the kitchen is his large estate, he found Tony sitting at the table eating a poptart. "Wh-what? Tony! Dude, I got out of bed, I even got dressed, and you are already eating?" Alfred was beside himself.<p>

The alien shrugged it's shoulders and nibbled on the edge of the poptart. "You took too long."

"…" Several seconds of silence passed between the two before the blonde ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. "Fine. I guess I'll just go watch TV or something."

"_Go do your paperwork, you ass-_"He exited the room before his 'friend' got the chance to finish his insulting orders. _Who is Tony to tell me what to do, anyways? God, he can be so useless, sometimes… _The man raged silently as he began to make his way up the stairwell that led to his TV room. When he had nearly reached the next floor, an obnoxious song filled the air.

' _Don't wanna be a Canadian idiot _'

America swore and quickly snatched his cell phone from his pocket and put it to his ear. "Matt, if this is about maple syrup, for the last time, I—"

"_Maple syrup? Why would I call you…? Just, never mind. That is definitely not why I called_."

"Look, I am not in a great mood right now. Tony totally just woke me up for no reason and I am pretty pissed off about it…" While on the call, the American finally reached the upper floor of his house and went straight to a large room which was filled with several gigantic, flat screen TVs.

"_Just now woke up? But it's nearly 3pm where you are…Anyways, I called to tell you about my visit to Arthur's place—_"

"What? Why did you go visit that old scone-sucker?" He leaned against the doorway of his room, not noticing how rudely he kept cutting the other off.

There was a sigh on the other line before Canada spoke up again. "_Well, if you'd listen to me for five seconds, maybe I'd tell you! Seriously, Al, you need to stop interrupting me whenever I talk to you—_"

"Just get on with it, I don't have all day."

Matthew was about ready to strangle his conversation partner through the phone. "_THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT. SHUT YOUR TRAP AND LET ME SPEAK. Ok. Ok. So, I told you, though you don't seem to remember, that I was going to England to have him check over a proposal of mine that I never got to present at the last meeting. But, when I arrived at his place and he answered the door…he…he looked terrible. _"

"Huh. That's not like him. He was probably having an off day, bro."

"_No, Alfred, that was not it at all. He seemed very bothered the entire time I was there. I could see it in his eyes. He was simply wearing a mask since I was around. And get this, when I started gathering my papers, I asked him if whatever was wrong had to do with you. He didn't even give me a direct answer. All he said was '_It's not his fault, it's mine._' Obviously you've done something really bad, and you need to fix it. Arthur looked really sick and I bet he is starting to get even worse! You don't know how worried I am about him…how worried you should be too!_" The Canadian stopped and took a breath, having gotten himself rather worked up.

America rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he listen to the steaming Canadian. "I don't know what you expect me to do. I can try talking to him at the next meeting we both have together. Is that ok?"

For several heartbeats, there was silence, and finally static came with a voice. " _No, Al. I doubt Arthur will be willing enough to come to the meeting; he'll probably skip it if he sees you on the agenda list._"

He gave a pout and clenched his hand around his phone, as if worried that it would slip, fall, and crash to the ground. "Are you saying I actually have to make an effort to go to his house and visit him?"

"_No, Al, I am saying nothing of the sort. I am simply asking you, as a fellow country, as a friend, as a __**brother**__, please, just do something about him. I care about him, and I know you do, too. Something about you is bothering him, and that means you are the only one who can make him better. Please…_"

"…Alright." He sighed, caving. "I'll make time and visit him. I can't promise you when, but I will."

Somehow, he was able to tell that Matthew was relieved, and much less tense than he had been the moment before. "_Alright, I'll leave it to you then. Keep me updated on what's going on, though, if you don't mind. I'd hate to be left in the dark about all of this._"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll text you and let you know if anything particularly interesting happens," Alfred grumbled, beginning to grow bored with the conversation, though, deep in the back of his mind, his thoughts were racing with the information he had been given. "Look, I am going to go watch TV now, so I have to go."

"_That's fine; I've told you all I wanted to tell you. Bye, and say hi to Tony for me!_"

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><p>America snorted. "<em>Say hi to Tony for him;<em> why would I ever say hi for him when Tony is just some ungrateful rat that doesn't wait for me to get McDonalds and wakes me up when he kept me up all night. Why do I even keep him around anyways…." His voice trailed off as images flashed on one of his TV screens. A yellow sponge danced back and forth and music filled the room. He couldn't help but sing along to the well known toon, and soon, all of his troubles were forgotten.

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><p>Crappy chapter is crappy? The next one shall be England….and I don't know where I am going with the next chapter. Oh, but I do know what England's dream is going to be about this next time! That's a secret to all of you, though. ;D<p> 


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